Angels take London
by Princess of Paris
Summary: Sherlock is researching a man, a man who appears in random parts of history and then disappears for another 100 years. Then there is a knock on the door, and the Doctor saunters his way into Sherlock's life, asking for help against the 'Weeping Angels'. WHOLOCK! No pairings (but if you want to see it as a slight johnlock, be my guest!)


Wholock – Don't blink.

Sherlock sighed, running his hands through his hair.

_How can these men appear throughout all of history, yet never age? And the box… why do they all own basically the same police box. Do they all know each other?_

He looked across the pieces of evidence he had taped to the wall; a photograph of an old Roman carving showing a man in a pinstriped suit, a woman and the police box behind them, a portrait of the same man with Elizabeth the First, another man with a bow tie and a fez on Southbank just a few days ago. They all fit. They must do.

Sherlock was brought back from his train of thought by Mrs. Hudson, shouting up the stairs; "Sherlock? You've got visitors."

He sighed, and turned away from the evidence he had collected to open the door. A man wearing a bow tie and a girl with a cheeky grin on her face. That man… he was one of the men he was searching for.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from showing fear.

"Hello Sherlock!" said the man in an overly confident voice, pulling him into a hug then bounding into the flat, and the girl following.

"I said who are you?" said Sherlock from the doorway, not turning around.

"I'm the Doctor. And this is Clara. Say hello Clara!" Said the 'Doctor'; opening and closing doors in the kitchen.

"Doctor what?" asked Sherlock, now turning around and closing the door.

"Just the Doctor. I swear I go through this every day now." Said the Doctor cheerfully, pouring himself a cup of tea from the teapot on the table.

"We need help with something." Said Clara from where she was sat- in John's seat.

"You've been researching me!" interrupted the doctor, taking a swig of his tea and bounding towards Sherlock's research. "Blimey, I was a looker back then! Look at my leather jacket! I should wear that more often."

"You said you needed help?" snapped Sherlock, glaring at the Doctor. His enthusiasm annoyed him slightly.

"Yes! You see, we've come across a Weeping Angel infestation in London and we need your help to stop it." Explained the Doctor, taking a seat on Sherlock's chair.

"Weeping Angels?" asked Sherlock curiously, sitting down on the sofa.

"Creatures that you can never stop looking at. Until you look away, they are quantum-locked, and then they strike. They're faster than anything known to the universe, so when you look away, they strike. A single tough from them will send you back in time to before you were born, then the angels feed off the energy of the days you would have lived. And, to quote my last face, 'don't turn your back, don't look away and don't blink. Blink and you're dead.'" Explained the Doctor, his tone getting more and more serious with every word.

Sherlock swallowed, his mouth becoming suddenly very dry.

"Sherlock, is there anyone you know who is alone in London at the moment?" asked Clara; leaning forwards and staring at Sherlock adamantly.

"John." Sherlock breathed, think of how John had announced he was going for a walk in Hyde Park to get away from the theories of the doctor for a while.

"Call him. Get him here as soon as possible." Said the doctor, and Sherlock rushed to the phone.

John was sat alone on a park bench, the cool winter air breezing past him. He sighed; the theories had all got too much for him. Sherlock trying to rationalise those men with theories ranging from vampires to Asgardians from those Thor movies they were so fond of.

John looked around, spotting a statue that he hadn't seen before in his peripheral vision. He turned his head to get a better look, and saw that it was the form of an angel that was crying. John smiled softly, thinking of where the angel could have come from.

_No art competitions till next summer as far as I can remember… maybe it's promoting some film or TV show._

John turned away as his phone rang; seeing it was Sherlock, he sighed and picked up the phone, bracing himself for another theory.

"Wizards don't exist Sherlock. So those men aren't Harry potter. What is it now?" He sighed into the phone.

"John where are you?" Sherlock's tone was worried and hasty. Something was wrong.

"In the park why?" he asked, turning his head to look back at the angel… he swore it was further away a minute ago.

"Is there anything out of the ordinary?" Sherlock asked, his tone changing from the unusually worried to a soft yet dangerous voice that he only saved for some master criminal.

"Nothing really, just an angel statue." Replied John. The angel was closer now than before. John was getting scared now.

"WHATEVER YOU DO JOHN, DON'T BLINK. DON'T TAKE YOUR EYES OFF IT."

Sherlock ran to the door with the doctor and Clara hot on his heels, shouting down the phone at John.

They got halfway down the road before Sherlock heard a soft 'thump' from the other end of the phone, before silence.

"John? John? JOHN?"


End file.
